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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26293684">Call it</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/somegunemojis/pseuds/somegunemojis'>somegunemojis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tender Mercies [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:28:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26293684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/somegunemojis/pseuds/somegunemojis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Think of it as a verbal write up, if you have to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bettino Tahan &amp; Cataline DuFrense</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tender Mercies [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Call it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December, 2014 -- [REDACTED]</p><p>They’re back in Libya, of course. Sometimes he feels like he’s never fucking left this place, like he never will. Blue skies above, with that scorching hot sun that leaves him casting his gaze around for some shade when the clock hits about noon. Pale sand that gets into all the creases on his body, fills his shoes and his socks. Another civil war, the second in three years, orchestrated by the powers that be for… what, oil? He’s not sure he even knows anymore, which side he’s supposed to be spilling blood for. On base, his hand never seems to stray very far from the scar cut across his abdomen, because more than enough of the blood he’d spilled the last time was his own. </p><p>They have a new Carabinieri attache-- she’s almost eye-searingly blonde and lily-skinned in the bright sunlight, he can’t help but wonder how she keeps from turning as red as a lobster. The military police are hardly ever well-liked among the rank and file, seen as fun-killers at best and crooked at worst, but… Tahan thinks she’s probably alright, if only by virtue of the fact that one Capitano Daniel Lombardi hates her. He watches from the shade of the MRAP that the late afternoon provides, his legs outstretched in the dirt before him, arms crossed over his rifle. Lombardi is bristling, trying to loom over her like his scant few centimetres he has on the woman affords him any kind of advantage in the face of her icy, steely calm. Yeah, Tahan thinks, he likes her just fine. She’s got a spine of steel, at least, glaring Lombardi down and snapping back at him. </p><p>DuFrense, he thinks her name is. He’s never spoken to her directly, just the occasional respectful nod as they pass each other on base, or when he and Rossi are bent over a map with their heads bowed together as they work on planning operations, and she sweeps into the room like she's royalty. She currently looks like she’s going to choke Lombardi. He thinks he might like to see it-- Rossi’s toe nudges his thigh, and when he tips his head back to squint at him, the younger man gestures silently toward the pair. His meaning is more than obvious: end that before it really starts.</p><p>Ah, well. He really would have put money on the Carabinieri, the way her face has clouded. Tahan stands with a long sigh, and then stalks forward on cat-quiet feet, his rifle slung back over his shoulder. It’s so hot when he gets out of the shade that he almost immediately starts to sweat-- how can these two bicker like this? How do they have the energy? </p><p>He catches the tail end of their conversation, Lombardi hissing out a quiet, “You don’t know what you’re messing with, DuFrense--” before he interrupts by clearing his throat. Lombardi cuts himself off and turns his baleful glare onto Tahan, and DuFrense takes a moment to try and smooth the anger out of her features. She mostly fails. Her fists are still bunched, the lines of her shoulders and her mouth pulled taut. Before Lombardi can snap out a ‘what’, Tahan snaps out a frankly disrespectful salute to him and then speaks.</p><p>“Maggiore Romano is looking for you, DuFrense.” His voice is flat, and he keeps his bored gaze focused on a point between them. It’s a calculated risk-- the Major outranks Lombardi, so the Captain can’t do anything but let her go, and the pair gets along even more poorly than it seems he and DuFrense do, so it’s not terribly likely Lombardi will ask. Not terribly likely, but the man trusts Tahan about as much as Tahan trusts him, so it’s still possible-- not that he’d get in all that much trouble. Lombardi opens his fat mouth to say something, but Tahan doesn’t give him the chance, sweeping his arm out in an ‘after you’ gesture for her, with a quiet, “I’ll walk you there.” </p><p>The flat line of her mouth turns furious once more, but thankfully she holds her tongue until they’re out of earshot, not even bothering to say goodbye to Lombardi. They walk together in silence until they round a corner, and then she whirls on him, fists curled like she’s thinking about striking him. At least she hasn’t gone for her gun. “Are you insane?” She demands, her voice ringing out of her like thunder. DuFrense steps forward, one of her hands gesturing broadly toward the rest of the base. “Does the Maggiore actually need me, or did you make that up?”</p><p>Tahan rocks back on his heels, biting back a smile. He has the feeling his amusement would only serve to act as gasoline on the fire of her fury, so he simply gives her a one shouldered shrug. “Sometimes, and no. Are you?” She stills, high spots of color creeping into her cheeks. “Insane, I mean.” </p><p>“No,” the answer cracks out of her like a whip this time, waspish and ice cold. “I’m beginning to suspect that everyone else here is, though-- you know you’re supposed to be working with the United Nations on all of your operations, don’t you?”</p><p>God. He rummages around in his pockets and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, offering her one as he lights his own. The look she gives him is venomous, but she takes one and he lights that one for her as well. “I’m aware--” Her brows furrow, and she opens her mouth to say something, but he holds up his hand. The gesture is enough to silence her for a half second, if only because she didn’t expect it, and that half second is all he needs. “Listen to me, picking a fight with that fuck Lombardi isn’t going to get you anywhere good.” </p><p>DuFrense exhales smoke harshly, staring hard off into the camp. “All this-- all this fucking--” He snorts, taken almost aback by the curse falling out of such an angelic face, and she snaps her electric eyes to him. “This cowboy <i>bullshit</i>. There’s a system in place to make sure everything is done by the book, and done well, and to keep casualties at a minimum, and it seems like nobody cares.”</p><p><i>Nobody does care</i>. He manages to keep from saying it, but only barely, instead he watches her, brows furrowed. Her fists are still clenched at her sides, like <b>she</b> actually cares. Maybe she does-- he’d heard she’s fresh out of the academy. Hasn’t had any time to let the world tint her idealism into something darker, yet. He doesn’t want to be the one to break it to her. Another long sigh rolls out of him as he turns to watch the walls of their base camp. “There’s something you need to understand about Lombardi.” He stops, there, and when he glances back at her he can see her eyes trained on the side of his face. “He’s gotten away with a lot of shit. He’s been allowed to get away with a lot of shit. And you’re a threat to that-- a threat to him.” </p><p>“Good--” she sneers. </p><p>“Bad,” he replies, cutting her off. “Because do you know what Lombardi does to people that threaten him? He eliminates the threat. Like he was trained to do.” She draws away, and he can see he’s losing her, so he gestures out to the camp. “I am not saying you should do nothing. You can report him to our superiors until you’re blue in the face. I’m just telling you now, it’s not likely they’ll do anything. We’re a black operation unit, and we… unofficially play by different rules. But if you keep running your mouth off to him, he’s going to start thinking maybe you’ll actually get something done.” A pause, for effect. Her eyes are almost, almost wide. “And then he’ll just make you disappear.” </p><p>The blonde’s jaw is so tight he could almost swear he can hear her teeth grinding. “He can try.”</p><p>“He can succeed. That prick has been here for fifteen years, and if we’re unlucky he’ll be here for fifteen more.” Tahan is agitated, he’s already burned through the entirety of his cigarette. He puts the butt out against the bottom of his boot, and tucks it back into the pack, unwilling to start another. “I’m not saying do nothing. I’m saying keep quiet about it until you’re far the fuck away from here. You understand?” </p><p>Her eyes, her face is grim. She nods, finally. He turns away before he can determine if she means to actually follow his advice or not.</p>
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